


Joy

by CashaMayfield



Series: ProwlxJazz Christmas Challenge 2007 [3]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 07:43:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7675912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CashaMayfield/pseuds/CashaMayfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <span class="ljuser i-ljuser i-ljuser-type-C"></span><a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/"></a><b>prowlxjazz</b> Christmas challenge, which is based around the four candles of advent.  This one is for Joy<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having told the Autobots about Christmas, Sparkplug now demands they tell him about their customs. Which leads to everyone reminiscing over energon…
> 
> "Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childhood days, recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth, and transport the traveler back to his own fireside and quiet home!" - Charles Dickens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/) **prowlxjazz**  Christmas challenge, which is based around the four candles of advent.  This one is for Joy  
>   
> Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno. 
> 
> First posted on Livejournal on 19/12/2007

This fic is bought to you by the lack of any imaginative phrase and the absence of any numbers save the countdown to _that_ day…

  
“So come on, spill.”  
“What?”  
“We’ve told you what we do at Christmas… now you’ve got to tell us what you do.”  
“Ah.” Prowl paused and leant back in his chair, staring at Sparkplug who was standing on the table in front of him, hands on his hips looking determined.  
“Cybertronians do not celebrate Christmas.”  
“You don’t?”  
“We don’t.”  
“Don’t you guys have any fun?” Spike asked, earning a laugh from most of the group.  
“Need I remind you we have been at war with the Decepticons for…”  
“Prowl, we know we’ve been at war.  We’re jus’ pretending that we’re not at the moment.” Jazz interrupted, earning himself a glare from the tactician.  “Actually Sparkplug, we do have a celebration that could kinda be called our version of Christmas.”  Prowl vented a sigh and let Jazz continue.  
“I remember we used to do it every year.  We’d all meet up and go down to the bar.”  
“They do not want to hear about you getting overcharged Jazz.” Prowl commented dryly.  
“It ain’t gonna be about that Prowl.  It were a tradition we had, right?”  
“Yes.  I believe tradition would be an apt description.”  
“Thank you.” Jazz grinned at Prowl and resumed his tale.  “It’s the anniversary of the first Transformer.”  
“The first?”  
“Yeah, we couldn’t always transform.  Back when we were first created, we was just slaves.  Then we fought back and ended up divided into what you’d now call the Autobots and Decepticons.”  
“In other words, domestic hardware versus military hardware.”  
“Here, who’s telling this story Prowl?”  
“My apologies.” Sparkplug watched in amazement as Prowl actually smiled, raising his doorwings ever so slightly as he settled down to listen.  
“That’s better.  Now… where was I?  Ah yes…  The first Transformer.  It’s one of the things I’ll always remember from when I was a sparkling.  Every town had one, didn’t they?”  
“I know mine did.” Prowl offered.  
“Mine too!”  
“And mine!” Jazz nodded before continuing.  
“Yeah, virtually every town an’ city had a memorial up somewhere.  And on the anniversary, we’d all troop down and stand around looking at it.  I remember being real bored the first few times.”  
“That does not surprise me.” Prowl muttered,  
“Hey, I was young!  Anyway… we always had this ritual you see…  We’d go to the memorial and lay an offering as thanks for the peace and happiness he’d brought us.” Jazz paused and held up a hand, forestalling a comment he was sure Prowl was about to make.  “At least ‘til the Decepticons started the war… then we really didn’t have too much time to celebrate it or nothing.  Too busy fighting and trying to stay online.”  
“But before?” Sparkplug prompted.  
“Ah, before... it were great.  Like the magic of Christmas but just so much more.  A celebration and a memory.  It was everything we were and everything we could be.”  
“But what about gifts?” Spike asked.  
“Trust you to ask about that.” Bumblebee laughed.  
“Yeah well.” Spike rubbed the back of his head and blushed.  
“Once the tradition got going, we started giving each other things.  It was always something small and useful.  There weren’t the hubbub there is here, no offence.”  
“It can get a little hectic.” Sparkplug agreed.  
“We just used to exchange little useful things.  Wax, oil, bit o’ paint, that sort of thing.  If you had the credits, you might treat someone you loved to an upgrade.” Jazz shrugged.  “But we ain’t been able to do that for a good few years.  No time for tradition when there’s a war.”  
“I remember my first…” Bumblebee ventured, looking around the group to check it was all right to speak before continuing his tale.

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

They spent the next few hours just talking, reminiscing about the past.  Jazz had nestled up against Prowl, just listening to the others, optics offline.  He was thinking back to the past, being the only one so far that hadn’t told a story about how he spent the anniversary.  He didn’t particularly want to – it brought back memories he didn’t necessarily want to share with the other Autobots.  
“Jazz?” Prowl’s voice filtered through his audios, distracting him from his thoughts.  
“I’m here Prowl.”  
“Do you remember the first anniversary we spent together?”  
“It weren’t really together Prowl.”  
“You know what I mean.” Despite the sharpness of the tone, Jazz could hear the compassion underlying the words.  
“Yeah.”  
“I think that was the best time I ever had.”  
“What, not even after the other night?” Jazz couldn’t help himself.  
“Jazz.” He could hear the warning in Prowl’s vocaliser this time.  “You were so carefree then.  Even after everything that had happened.”  
“Heh, I thought you were a tight-aft that needed loosening up.”  
“Is that why you gave me the lubricant?” Prowl asked, amusement coloring his vocaliser.  He was rewarded with a laugh from Jazz.  
“Man, I’d forgotten that!”  
“I hadn’t.”  Prowl continued to relate the first anniversary they had spent together, not long after Jazz had joined the Autobots; his city being one of the first to fall in the early days of the war.  Despite everything he had gone through, Jazz was still optimistic and gregarious; traits that Prowl envied on meeting Jazz for the first time.  What surprised them both even more, was that despite their obvious differences in temperament and discipline – Jazz was far more undisciplined that Prowl would have normally allowed, yet he found himself making allowances for the future saboteur – they worked well together, both on duty and off duty.  
Despite the war that was starting to rage around them, they had enjoyed themselves, spending time together just talking or playing various games.  Occasionally, they ended up bringing their work off duty with them, talking to one another about upcoming battle plans and strategies or planned sabotage missions.  
The morning of the anniversary, Prowl had brought himself out of recharge early, intent on analysing the last battle and planning new ways to incur the minimum amount of damage to their troops while inflicting the maximum amount of damage on the Decepticons.  He wasn’t expecting to see the can of lubricant sitting boldly on his desk.  There were only two mechs on the base that would have the knowledge of how to override the locks he put on his door (ignoring their new grumpy CMO who had medical clearance to unlock any door on the base).  And only one mech would do it, Prowl reasoned.  Red Alert wouldn’t, simply because it would be seen as betrayal and a threat to base security.  Jazz on the other hand didn’t care too much about protocol.  Prowl struggled for a few moments to work out the reason for the apparent gift before he checked the date.  Then it all became clear and Prowl quickly checked the shifts for the day to work out where Jazz would be so he could thank him.

Prowl entered the command center, his gaze quickly passing over those present until it settled on Jazz.  Jazz, to his credit, was not oblivious to Prowl’s entrance; looking up briefly and giving the tactician a tight smile before returning to the plans spread out on the desk before him.  Realising he wouldn’t be able to thank the saboteur now, Prowl made his way over to the desk and took a look at the plans.  It was the next mission planned for Jazz; a quick reconnaissance with a destructive element.  Jazz and Brawn (their new demolitions expert) were planning the best locations for the bombs.  Prowl listened as they decided on the locations and called an end to the meeting.  Jazz looked up and gave Prowl another tight smile.  With his visor in place, Jazz’s face was completely unreadable and Prowl found himself at a loss on what to say.  All he could do was watch as Jazz walked away and out of the command center.  Prowl snapped his optics off and back on again and hurried after Jazz.  
To Prowl’s eternal gratitude, Jazz was lingering by the doorway, dawdling in such a manner as to not be obvious.  
“Prowl.” His very voice seemed to caress Prowl’s name and send a pulse through Prowl’s circuits.  
“Jazz.  I just wanted to thank you.”  
“For what?”  
“Your gift was appreciated.” Prowl almost stumbled over his words, not entirely sure what he was meant to say.  And the fact that his proximity to Jazz was now setting certain sensors firing didn’t help.  Jazz nodded and continued walking down the corridor.  Prowl followed and they walked in uncomfortable silence before Jazz broke it.  
“What d’ya think of the plan?” The saboteur knew the best way to start Prowl talking was to ask his opinion on tactics and strategy.  It worked.  Prowl picked up on the good points in the plan and pointed out a few of the flaws he could potentially see.  As Prowl finished his analysis, Jazz nodded.  
“D’ya want to get some energon?”  Prowl nodded his agreement and the two made their way to the refuelling area.  Located on one of the lower levels, it gave them time to talk about anything Jazz could come up with.

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

“I hadn’t quite realised just how much you could talk.” Prowl murmured.  
“Heh, you weren’t providing much in the way of conversation, so I had to.” Jazz retorted, shifting ever so slightly to lean more comfortably against Prowl.  In response, Prowl wrapped an arm carefully around Jazz’s shoulders.  
“I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way though.”  
“If I remember you complained about me wearing out your audios.”  
“I was trying to make a joke.”  
“Oh…” Jazz paused, thinking for a moment before laughing.  “I must have really thought you were a tight-aft if I missed that!”  
“I would hope you wouldn’t miss it now.”  
“I’ve had a fair few years to get to know you and ya sense of humor now Prowl.  I doubt I’d miss it.”  
“So come on Prowl!  Tell us what you remember doing on an anniversary.” Bluestreak asked.  
“Don’t you dare.” Muttered Jazz.  
“Wouldn’t let the thought cross my processor.” Prowl replied quietly before continuing in a louder tone.  “I remember one anniversary, not long after the war started.  Someone had left me a gift in my quarters…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz struggles to think of a suitable gift for Prowl and the Decepticons have a plan that actually works.
> 
> "Joy is the true gift of Christmas, not the expensive gifts that call for time and money. We can communicate this joy simply: with a smile, a kind gesture, a little help, forgiveness. And the joy we give will certainly come back to us." - Pope Benedict XVI.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/) **prowlxjazz**  Christmas challenge, which is based around the four candles of advent.  This one is for Joy  
>   
> Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno. 
> 
> First posted on Livejournal on 21/12/2007

Jazz sat at the computer console, watching the monitor without really observing the activities it was focussing on.  He didn’t see Bluestreak and Bumblebee and Spike making a snowman in the freshly fallen snow.  He didn’t see Cliffjumper throwing snowballs at an invisible Mirage.  He didn’t see anything, so focussed was he on his thoughts.

Ever since Sparkplug had asked about their Christmas traditions, Jazz couldn’t tear his thoughts away from what gifts he could get for Prowl.  They held special meaning now that he was giving them to his partner.  But he was at a loss on what to get.  He still couldn’t believe that Prowl would remember that can of lubricant from all those years ago.  But now he needed something with more meaning – something that would show how much he cared for the tactician.

“Anything interesting?” Trailbreaker asked, peering over Jazz to look at the monitor.  “Heh, Cliffjumper should have learnt by now not to mess with Mirage.” He commented as he watched Cliffjumper swept off his feet by a large snowball.  Jazz turned slowly to stare up at Trailbreaker.  
“You really do have your head in the clouds.” The black mech laughed.  Jazz grinned.  
“Can ya blame me?”  
“Not really.  If it’s any consolation, Prowl has been just as bad, worse even.”  
“He has?”  
“I ain’t kidding you he has.  That mech has almost been drifting instead of walking.  I swear on my spark, in all the years I’ve known Prowl, I ain’t never seen him wear a smile this big.”  
“You know me, I aim to please!”  
“As long as the pair of you are happy Jazz.”  
“I am.  I hope Prowl is too.”  
“Judging by the way he’s acting, I’d say he was.  The pair of you ought to have done something about it sooner.”  
“Wish I had now ‘Breaker, believe me.  Didn’t know he felt the same.  Just need to figure out what I can get him now.”  
“Who says you need to get him anything?”  
“It’s tradition.”  
“If you ask me, I think you’ve given him plenty.  You don’t just have to give a physical gift Jazz.” Jazz shrugged and refocused his attention on the monitor.  
“What the…” He exclaimed, watching in mounting horror as the Autobots outside dove for cover amongst the snow drifts.  In the instance it took his processor to register what his optics were seeing, the base alarms sounded, ringing harshly compared to the previous silence.  Both Jazz and Trailbreaker were out of the command center in seconds, dashing outside to aid in the imminent battle.

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

Jazz found himself fending off both Rumble and Frenzy; distracting the two cassetticons from  Trailbreaker, who had taken a shot to the knee early on in the battle and was now struggling to stay online.  They might be small, but Soundwave’s cassettes certainly had stamina.  Jazz found himself tiring and finding it more difficult to keep the Decepticon Twins from Trailbreaker, who had by now slipped into stasis.   It wasn’t too much longer before Jazz realised he was going to be heading that way himself.  Occupying Rumble and Frenzy took a lot of effort and Jazz was using up far more energy than they were.  Around him, the battle raged on.  Without having to look, he knew that Ironhide was fighting Soundwave; he could hear the red mech cursing loudly as he grappled with the Decepticon.  Bumblebee had been pounced on by Ravage (what was it with that cat and Bumblebee?) and Cliffjumper and Bluestreak were firing at the two condors circling above their heads.  The Decepticons had taken a gamble attacking this close to the base, hoping to catch the Autobots off guard.  Surprisingly for a Decepticon plot, it had actually worked.  He could hear Prowl directing the battle, pausing only to shoot at the Seekers who continued to rain down laser fire on them.  
Then, with no warning, the cliffside above Jazz exploded, debris and rock raining down on him and Trailbreaker, the Decepticon Twins managing to escape unharmed.

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

Jazz came back online to the sound of Ratchet pitching what sounded like the mother of all tantrums.  Apparently, the gods of Earth, as well as several other planets, Cybertron included, and the Decepticons existed solely to make his life a walking nightmare.  
“Doubt that Ratchet…” He managed to say, a little surprised at the scratchiness of his vocaliser.  
“You!  What on Cybertron were you thinking standing directly under a falling cliff face?”  
“Weren’t exactly my choice to be there.” Jazz replied, gingerly sitting up and looking around him.  
“You’re just lucky the explosion jolted Trailbreaker out of stasis with enough time to erect a force field around the pair of you.  Not to mention everything else I have to deal with.  Slagging Decepticons!”  
“How bad was it?”  
“Bad enough that me, Wheeljack, Perceptor and Hoist will be kept busy for a while.”  
“Bet Ironhide won’t be pleased to hear that.” Jazz managed to quip before his vocaliser shorted out, leaving him clutching at his throat and Ratchet pulling out his laser scalpel again.  
“Ironhide won’t be fit enough for anything for a while.” Ratchet muttered as he worked.  Jazz tilted his head in apology, ignoring Ratchet’s grimace as he did so.  He returned with a grimace of his own as Ratchet straightened his head for him and none too gently either.  He jerked as a panicked thought ran through his processor and straight to his spark.  Pulling away from Ratchet, he stared wildly around the repair bay.  
“Jazz, listen to me, Prowl is okay.” Jazz sagged back on the berth, relief evident across his chassis.  “He’s banged up, like the rest of you, but it’s nothing I can’t fix.”  Jazz nodded slowly.  “Your vocaliser is fixed, but I don’t want you to put any strain on it for the next day.  It’s too sensitive to failure at the moment and I don’t have the equipment to replace it here.” Jazz nodded again and tilted his head away from the berth.  
“Yes, you can go.  Prowl is over there.” Ratchet pointed with his laser scalpel to the berth Prowl was lying on before turning his attention to Trailbreaker.  Carefully Jazz made his way over to the berth, leaning heavily against the side of it, just staring at Prowl.  Gently he traced the side of Prowl’s face, lacking the words to say anything, even if he were allowed to speak.  
“Jazz.” In response, Jazz grabbed one of Prowl’s hands, squeezing gently.  
“When I said you talked too much… I didn’t mean you to actually not talk.”  If Jazz could have rolled his optics, he would have.  “I’m glad you’re all right.  When I heard that explosion…” Prowl’s vocaliser stuttered to a stop before the tactician managed to calm himself to continue.  “I didn’t want anything to happen to you.  Not after what we’ve finally admitted.” Jazz tilted his head and smiled down at Prowl, hoping to  convey how he felt in that simple action.  His smile widened as Prowl squeezed his hand in return before offlining his optics.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jazz wanders the halls, trying to find peace for his tormented spark.  But the distraction comes from what he considers an unusual source.
> 
> “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." - Psalms 30:5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the [](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/profile)[ **prowlxjazz**](http://prowlxjazz.livejournal.com/)  Christmas challenge, which is based around the four candles of advent.  This one is for Joy.  And I have to say how amazing it is that both me and  [](http://huntingospray.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://huntingospray.livejournal.com/)**huntingospray**  (although she did it far better than me) came up with the same idea… sort of… no plagiarism intended… the scene had been envisaged before I read her story, but written after, so please shoot me if I have accidentally incorporated anything…   And yes, I realise it’s a short chapter, but I had to distract Red Alert otherwise he would have kept going on and on… not that I mind hearing about him and Inferno, but this is meant to be about Jazz and Prowl…  And I think I might have borrowed the reason for Red Alert getting so worked up from Juxtaposition by Vaeru (which is a fantastic read btw!), so I apologise in advance!  
>   
> Feedback makes friends. Flames dealt with by the masters of paranoia and fire, Red Alert and Inferno. 
> 
> First posted on Livejournal on 23/12/2007

Jazz couldn’t move as Prowl offlined his optics.  Somehow, he had managed to say everything he needed to say without speaking.  It figured that Prowl would be proficient in reading him by now.  As the medical alarms started beeping, Jazz found himself staring down at Prowl, still tightly gripping his hand.  
“Out the way Jazz.” Ratchet, getting no response from Jazz,  raised his voice. “Now!” He shouted, pushing Jazz out of his way and hurriedly checking Prowl over.  
“Wheeljack!” Wheeljack rushed over at his partner’s cry, neatly stepping around Jazz who was sure his entire world was crumbling around him.  The med. bay seemed to be unearthly silent and all Jazz could do was watch as Ratchet and Wheeljack worked feverishly on Prowl.

Somehow, Jazz found himself back in his quarters, sitting on the edge of his recharge berth.  He didn’t know how long he had been there, didn’t know how long it had been since he left the med. bay.  And in all honesty, he didn’t dare check.  All he could hear were the alarms blaring in his audios.  All he could see was the image of Wheeljack and Ratchet bent over the prone chassis of his partner.  His still, unmoving partner.  More images rose unbidden in his processor.  Thoughts of Prowl deactivated and greying.  Meetings without his wry sense of humor.  No more watching the tactician surreptitiously, delighting in the delicate way he moved and how expressive he could be when outlining a plan.  Jazz threw himself backwards onto his berth, offlining his optics.  He was so tired, low on energy and a wreck emotionally.  Now he could understand why Prowl kept his distance from everything.  This hurt worse than any injury he’d ever incurred from the Decepticons.  He didn’t want to recharge.  He wanted to be there next to Prowl.  He wanted Prowl to be there with him.  He didn’t want to leave Prowl’s side.  And he didn’t want to let Prowl leave his side.

His mind made up, Jazz made his way back to the med. bay, hesitating briefly outside the door.  He could hear Ratchet and Wheeljack conversing in low despondant tones and his spark seemed to stop pulsing for an instant.  He could only think of one reason why they would be talking so quietly and sadly.  Without realising where he was going, Jazz turned and headed away from the med. bay, away from Ratchet and Wheeljack and their sad conversation, away from Prowl.  Away, away, away…  
“Jazz?” Jazz looked up to see Red Alert standing in front of him, a concerned expression on the security director’s face plates  
“I’m fine Red.” He tried to brush away the concern.  
“And I’m not prone to fits of paranoia.” Red Alert returned, far quicker than Jazz was expecting.  The comment made him smile.  
“You keep your sense of humor under wraps like Prowl.” He noted, his vocaliser spluttering into static as he said his partner’s name.  Red Alert nodded, as though he knew something Jazz didn’t.  
“Walk with me.” He asked, waiting for Jazz to fall in step with him.  “I can understand why you’re wandering around.”  Jazz tried to ask why, but his vocaliser protested at the attempt, so he had to settle for tilting his head.  
“It’s always hard when it’s you left outside and the one you love in there fighting to live.” He paused, waiting for the implications to sink in.  “Inferno and I have been bonded for many years.” He continued, an affectionate tone creeping into his voice.  “He drives me mad sometimes, always rushing off and being reckless, but I wouldn’t have him any other way.” A hand on his arm stopped him and he looked across at Jazz.  
“You need distracting while Ratchet and Wheeljack work.  Have faith in them, they’re the top of their profession.  If any one can save Prowl, they can.” He answered the unasked question.  “Primus knows, I’ve spent enough time outside med. bays worrying about Inferno, the least I can do is help you.”  
“Tha…” Jazz tried to thank Red Alert, but couldn’t manage it.  The knowledge that someone else knew (to some degree) the torment he was going through made him feel a little better.  Red Alert led them down the corridor to his office, giving the monitors a quick glance before settling down in his chair and reaching into a drawer for two energon cubes.  He waited for Jazz to sit down and passed him a cube.  Jazz nodded and leant back in his chair.  
“I’ve not seen Prowl so happy for years.” Red Alert commented, taking a small sip from his energon cube.  Jazz managed to make a noise and Red Alert laughed.  “Yes, I agree with Trailbreaker, Prowl does seem like he’s been floating on air recently.  And yes, that is your fault.  And I don’t think anyone’s going to complain.”

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

They spent most of the night talking.  Well, Red Alert spent most of the night talking.  Jazz, being unable to form sentences properly without static, merely listened.  As he listened to Red Alert’s observations and comments, he realised that although he was being distracted from worrying about Prowl, there was a very good reason.  Red Alert knew from personal experience the reactions he could face.  Although Jazz and Prowl weren’t bonded in the way that Red Alert and Inferno were, deep emotions could still affect Cybertronian systems.  Jazz had nodded, knowing the turmoil his spark had been in, the depressive cycle of self-destruction he had begun.  With Red Alert present the thought of losing Prowl, while still on his processor, didn’t seem like it would be a reality.  He was constantly being assured and reassured of Ratchet’s capabilities as a medic (as if he doubted them) and Wheeljack’s prowess.

Red Alert checked his monitors again before looking back at Jazz.  The saboteur had slipped into a restless recharge an hour or so earlier.  Red Alert didn’t take offence at Jazz falling asleep while he was talking, understanding that the Porsche had finally exhausted himself.  Opening a communication channel to the med. bay, he checked on Prowl’s status.  
Jazz onlined his optics a little, watching Red Alert from beneath his visor.  He very nearly sat up from his slouched position when he realised the security director was talking to Ratchet.  A very tired sounding Ratchet.  
“Noted.  Thank you Ratchet.  I’ll make sure to inform Optimus.  Get some recharge and I’ll have Perceptor look after med bay.” He closed the channel and leant back in his chair.  “I know you’re online again Jazz.”  
“How?” Jazz was quite pleased that his vocaliser seemed to be functioning normally now.  Red Alert tapped his left audio.  
“I can hear remember.  I can tell when a recharge cycle has ended.  All the sounds of the internal systems change.” Jazz held up a hand, stopping Red Alert detailing exactly how he knew.  
“Just gimme the bad news Red.”  
“Bad news?”  
“About Prowl.”  
“Jazz.” A soft reprimand.  “Do you really doubt our CMO that much?  Prowl is stabilised and will make a full recovery.  And yes, Ratchet has given you permission to visit him, but to keep it brief and not over-exert Prowl.”  
“As if.” Jazz snorted, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off his shoulder struts.  Beginning to feel his normal self again, he nodded his thanks to Red Alert, knowing that he couldn’t say anything to show how appreciative he was, before he practically skipped out of the office and down the corridor.

**~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~**

Red Alert watched the security monitors, a sense of satisfaction suffusing through his systems and he watched the reunion between Jazz and Prowl.  
“Should you really be watching that Red?”  
“Not really Inferno, but I have to make sure they’re both all right.  Jazz spent the night worrying about Prowl.”  
“Now that sounds familiar.” Red Alert smiled as he felt Inferno’s hands on his shoulders.  
“I know what he was going through.  Nothing worse than thinking the one you love won’t survive the night.”  
“But I did.  And so did Prowl.”  
“Yes, and by the way Jazz skipped out of here, he was certainly overjoyed.”  
“Ah remember how pleased you were to see me…” Inferno countered, reaching across to turn off the monitor to the med. bay.  “Think we ought to give them their privacy, right?”  



End file.
